“Been called needy, myself, so I know what that feels like,” Kit admitted.
“We could always be needy together,” the words flew out of my mouth, his sharp intake of breath a sure sign that I’d shocked him.
I’d shocked myself too. The words were out there, though; I had no desire to take them back. In the silence, I realized that he was holding my hand tighter, and I didn’t mind in the slightest.
“Y-you mean that?” Hesitant, unsure, with a hint of awe anda wistfulness I wished to erase with certainty, that’s the way his words tumbled out.
I wanted him to see my eyes, even if it meant sitting up and risking another bout of dizziness. Maybe if I did it slowly. Had to let go of his hand, though. His breath hitched when I did, so I rushed a little and slightly threw myself off balance when I turned so I could see him and run my fingers through his hair.
“A thousand percent,” I said. “Come on, sit up for me.”
He moved so fast a few of the strands twisted around my fingers, one or two snapping and left dangling from my hand as he turned to face me. The light from the screen was the only source in the room, dingy looking and fully rocking that whole late seventies-early eighties vibe. It left me wishing we were by the ocean again, where I could see the full depth of the shades in his brilliant blue eyes.
“I’d love to collaborate with you,” I told him. “You’re bringing in a fresh voice and experiences we haven’t had. You can’t hone your skills in a notebook. Jagger tried that and would have robbed the Saints of some amazing songs if Draven hadn’t intervened.”
“Intervened how?”
“Well, the story I was told was that Jagger and Kayden got drunk, then they started playing tug-of-war with Jagger’s notebook, then they fell over on the lawn and Kayden passed out on Jagger, who really had to pee, so Robbie helped him in, and the notebook sort of got abandoned on the lawn where Draven found it.”
Grinning, Kit shook his head at me. “Damn, that’s just…fucking hilarious, actually.”
“Right.”
“Look,” I said, holding his gaze. “I’m an asshole; seriously, consider that the only warning you’re going to get. But if I say I’m gonna do something, then you can count on me to do it to the best of my ability.”
“Having heard your songs, I know I’m in good hands.”
Chuckling, I shot him a glimmer of my trademark smirk. “You’ll always be in good hands with me.”
Chapter 14
(Steel)
My soul was slowly dying. The longer I kept my distance from Rebel, the more it hurt to watch him from afar, unable to ask how he was feeling or get to the bottom of what had happened the night he’d been taken to the hospital.
Because I’d been on duty guarding Jagger that night, I’d been standing behind his chair at the signing and only caught a few rumblings of what was going on with Rebel. The second- and even third-hand information I’d received hadn’t been nearly good enough, but asking would have triggered questions I couldn’t answer when we were still on the outs.
And might always be.
His smirking profile picture remained beneath my unanswered text like a hot poker jabbed between my ribs, burning whenever I looked at it. Once I’d seen those three beautiful dots appear to show he’d been typing and I’d waited with anxious energy, knee nervously bouncing up and down, until the dots vanished without leaving a message in their wake.
Now here I was, relieved of duty for the night, brooding at a picnic table near the campfire at a campground in Estes Park, Colorado, high up in the Rocky Mountains, where we had all the privacy we needed. Last night they’d played in Denver, with Kayden playing lead guitar for Blissfully Immune in Rebel’s place.It had made for a long night for him, which meant Robbie and Jagger had spent the day exploring the town and enjoying a rock and roll backroads Jeep adventure Lawson and I had thoroughly enjoyed escorting them on.
As far as perks of the job went, days like today were among my favorites. The fact that we had two more days to enjoy the mountains before they were scheduled to play Fort Collins meant plenty more sites to see, including a ride on the aerial tramway and a tour of the Razorback Distillery and Tasting Room. I just hoped no one needed to be carried back to the bus after that one.
Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention to the figure striding towards a table several feet away. With guards posted around the perimeter of our campsite, no one was forced to keep one by their side, a fact I was certain Rebel was thrilled with. It wasn’t until firelight cast red hues on familiar golden curls that I realized that it was Rebel headed to a table, carrying something I couldn’t make out.
Oh.
A lantern.
He set it down and turned it on, illuminating the surface that he soon spread a notebook open on. I was shocked that he didn’t have his guitar with him, just a backpack, from which he started unloading containers and who knows what else; some were so small they were impossible to make out.
Before I could change my mind, I stood and walked over there, parking myself on the bench across from him, ignoring his look of confusion until I’d fully situated myself on the bench.
“Sully said that as long as I stayed within the perimeter, he didn’t have to be glued to me,” Rebel said. “So no lectures.”
“I didn’t come over here to lecture you,” I said. “I know what Sully’s orders were.”